We arrived on Hydra the only way one can — by boat. The island has no airport, no bridge, and no road leading to it. Surrounded by the shimmering waters of the Saronic Gulf, Hydra is accessible only by sea, and we chose to arrive in style — sailing in on a sleek white yacht under the blazing Aegean sun. As we entered the island’s perfect crescent-shaped harbor, we were greeted by a scene so picturesque it felt almost unreal: whitewashed houses with tiled roofs climbing the hillside, church domes glinting in the light, and the scent of salt, pine, and sun-warmed stone in the air.
Hydra is more than beautiful — it’s ancient. The island has been continuously inhabited since the Early Bronze Age, over 5,000 years ago. Through the centuries, it survived pirate raids, shifting empires, and changing fortunes. It rose to prominence during the Ottoman period, when its fleet of merchant ships brought enormous wealth. Many of the stone mansions that line the harbor were built by shipping magnates in the 18th century, their grandeur a testament to Hydra’s past power.
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But it was during the Greek War of Independence, which began in 1821, that Hydra’s legacy was sealed. After years under Ottoman rule, Greeks across the mainland and islands rose up in revolt. At first, Hydra’s leaders hesitated, wary of losing their prosperity. But once committed, the island became one of the war’s most vital forces. With nearly 200 ships, Hydra possessed the most powerful naval fleet in Greece at the time.
The most celebrated figure of this era was Admiral Andreas Miaoulis, a Hydriot captain who led the revolutionary navy with bold strategy and unwavering resolve. Under his command, the fleet launched daring raids, disrupted Ottoman supply lines, and used explosive-packed fire ships to devastating effect. These floating bombs were steered into enemy vessels and ignited at close range — a terrifying and effective tactic that gave the revolutionaries a crucial edge at sea.
Today, that history burns brightly each year during the Miaoulia Festival, held every June in Hydra to honor Miaoulis and the island’s role in securing Greek independence.
By the time we arrived for the celebration, the island was already buzzing with excitement. The harbor promenade was packed with visitors and locals alike, the streets lined with Greek flags and traditional music echoing from every corner. We wandered past open-air tavernas where octopus sizzled on grills and children waved sparklers under the watchful eyes of proud grandparents.
The festival builds toward one unforgettable moment — and when night fell, we joined the crowd by the water, facing the open bay. There, floating in the dark, was a replica Ottoman ship. The atmosphere was electric. Suddenly, a flare shot into the sky, followed by a thunderous explosion. The ship erupted into flames, fireworks burst overhead, and the crowd roared in celebration.
It was theatrical and spectacular, yes — but also deeply moving. The burning of the ship is more than just a show. It’s a living memory of those fire ships, of those captains who risked everything for freedom. It’s a symbol of sacrifice, courage, and the enduring Greek spirit.
That night, as we returned to our yacht — rocking gently in the harbor, the smell of smoke still lingering in the air — we felt a powerful connection to the island. Hydra had given us more than beauty and history. It had drawn us into its soul: a place where the past is honored, freedom is cherished, and every summer, fire still dances on the sea.
